*The Dead Poet*
Many blocks along the road,
Kicking down walls of heavy stones,
Yet no one could draw through the walls of her lonely bones.
A poet who could not write what's inside.
Her pen had gone ink dry.
Her beady eyes lost the feel of an angelic realm.
She tried!
She tried until she could no longer cry!
A poet who stuttered with the mind and out came no words.
This poet hangs on a mound with a picture that tells a sad tale.
A poem that broke verses in a Carpe diem dream.
She ruffled her arms once more as if she could fly.
Still nothing,
Everything felt dead inside.
Trap in a mental state that clots the willing vein.
Isolating her form in a room with no door.
She stays this away from the feel of the marvel pen.
To never go back, and feel again.
In the most ominous way,
She lets out a cry,
A cry, never heard before.
Running from this evil, that stain her world.
Words buried deep and behind a new exterior box,
Her insides grasp all the air of airs once alive.
A talon drop into the next,
This troublesome poet gave up on everything.
Had nothing left, but the empty space within.
Next!
She curls herself into a fetal world.
At last, she closes her eyes, to feel no more.
A poet who died the day, joy wiped the glee from her face.
by;PD

Come and listen awhile I pray
To hear a sad love story,
I have only a minute to stay
To tell the tale of Malcolm McCorey.
I'm Malcolm, Sally was my bride
I've loved her since grade school,
She was my life and my pride
And, I was her ever loving fool.
Work let off early that night
And it was pouring down in sheets,
When my eyes beheld the sight
Of Sally whoring 'tween the sheets.
My Sally was not forthcoming
And, I was blind by love's adoring,
I swear I never saw it coming
The day my Sally went a whoring.
This wasn't some casual adoring
That I might could understand,
This was at our home a whoring
In our bed with another man.
It was a cold and rainy night
And it was pouring down in sheets,
I wasn't prepared for the sight
Of Sally whoring 'tween the sheets.
The truth came like a blinding light
She couldn't wait to shut the door,
When I came home early that night
While she gaily played the whore!
She glared up at me in surprise
At seeing me suddenly arrive,
I stared back into her lying eyes
Down the barrel of my forty five!
It was a stormy and dismal night
And it kept pouring down in sheets,
I'll never forget the awful sight
Of Sally whoring 'tween the sheets.
The Padre' comes to comfort me
My life's now run it's course,
Today my pain will cease to be
Soon, I'll feel no more remorse.
I forgive myself of all at last
My soul will soon go soaring,
Today will soon be o'er and past
The pain, of Sally gone a whoring.
* Malcolm was executed in may of 1969. May God have mercy on his soul.
Timothy I. Brumley

Once upon a time, in a land far, far away—
I met the person whom I shall love.
It was summer season—in the month of May,
when I found my dearest dove—
my life; my beloved; my prized;
my cherished with no name.
In that land far, far away, surrounded by the seas,
by the name of Puerto Prinsesa,
we tasted the sweet scent of its breeze—
I and my cherished with no name—
as little seraphs of heaven sang in bliss.
Stealing glances, that’s all we had
in that land far, far away;
and also in stealing glances, our tale has ended,
as we witnessed ourselves falling away.
The sun never rises without bringing me trances
of my cherished with no name;
the wind always whistles but I never had the chance
to hear the voice
of my cherished with no name;
and so, my heart desires
of revisiting our land far, far away—
to bring me back to the scenes,
to bring me back to my once upon a time
that my yearning heart once has seen.

She drowns herself in pints and quarts
And finds solace in liquor bottles
She uses it to mend her broken hearts
Though she stumbles and topples
She decides her fate with alcohol
And speaks through sealed lips
And harshness bounces off her breath like a wall
After she has had a few sips
But dear God bless the tongue of the drunken
Lady, gentleman or naïve child
Blinded by the bliss of wild desires,
Wasted away like rubbish beguiled.

A ballad for Hannah (In memory)
I awoke this morning with a frightening chill,
Hannah has been killed
By a group of peers,
There was never any violence
Only immaturity from them all.
Day by day was Hell
She always felt like she was locked in a cell,
The rumors grew closer
Minutes got longer,
Death was knocking at the door.
No one noticed her sorrowful eyes
Or even wondered if she wanted to die,
All that mattered to them
Is letting everyone know
That she can not be trusted.
She plotted a devious deed
Who would notice this lead?
Her fall would be quick and painless,
No one would ever suspect it,
Hannah has been killed.

Blondie was the next door girl,
with a sexy body that made men go wild,
and like them, I fell in love without guilt inside;
I had fun...not worrying about Hell.
Blondie was looking for her sugar daddy,
saying that wasn't wrong accepting money,
gifts, clothes, expensive cars and jewelry!
Blondie, pretty Blondie, with no ethics:
why did you do that to yourself?
Was all that a replacement for your dad?
You certainly had the looks of models,
and that didn't mean hope was dead!
Blondie, pretty Blondie, you sneered and laughed!
There's was a retired veteran down the block,
you volunteered to do errands and clean his house,
and he was a wealthy one, perhaps the one you sought;
and making up lies you got him to give you a fortune...
your baby didn't need any kind of surgery, but John
fell for your trick and gave you fifty thousand dollars,
he had many ships, now he's totally broken and out of luck!
Blondie, pretty, Blondie, who's going to be
your next sugar daddy?...No, it certainly won't be me!
Blondie, pretty Blondie, get some sleep and reflect on your grave mistake...
look for a normal guy who can take care of you, stop being that spoiled brat!
Two detectives from the local precinct rang her bell today,
and with a warrant in their hands they took her away;
Blondie tried to resist arrest, and they handcuffed her against her will...
she always thought of bribing authorities with enough water in her well!
Wasn't she wrong...to even think of that unrealistic monstrosity?
There in a cell, she can't to bend the iron bars without audacity!
Blondie, pretty Blondie, you had freedom and a loving family,
your mom worked hard and raised your with morals...Blondie, pretty Blondie;
and with hostility, you turned against her and became an escort, joining the night ladies:
snorting cocaine and picking up guys by the hundred...weren't you scared of catching Aids?
Copyright (C) 20210 by Andrew Crisci

Drug Ballad
When I’m out I hate you, like a game that I lost,
But you were a diamond at a very high cost,
When I first met you, it seemed so,
And now the things you’ve done; just so low.
And I wish I could suck the morphine from your veins,
Cause every time it runs through you, it rains.
Touch your face, and it’s frozen, so I make sure there’s a pulse,
And when there is I jump back in some kind of repulse.
You’re no longer a diamond; just scum and dirt,
Tried to hide the marks from me, but there’s blood tracked down the sleeves of your shirt.
And you stole my rings, and you broke my heart,
And you’re no longer my very own beautiful piece of art.
And I don’t want to watch you die, none of us do,
But I promise you will, and it’s all up to you.

Father, dear father I'm lost and alone
I've tried to make it out here on my own
But I've stumbled and fallen again and again
I'm tired dear father too tired to get up on my own
Hold on dear father don't look at me yet
Let me wipe away these tears my hearts been a cryin'
I'm so sorry father I'm no man today
Take me in your arms father and take me away
The worlds so big father, I just never knew
I thought with some elbow grease and a little can do
That this world, with a smile and hug, would welcome me
But no, their just not ou
I tried dear father, really I did
To make a name for myself
Alas I'm only a kid
Please dear father take me home